Just Like a Drug
by fructoselollipop
Summary: Talladega Nights slash. Will FerrellSacha Baron Cohen. While filming Talladega Nights, Will struggles with the idea of kissing Sacha. Don't make fun. :


He hadn't been nervous when he wrote it. In fact he was more proud of it than anything he had ever done, creatively speaking. Of course in the foreground it was supposed to be funny. People would laugh at the immediate joke and most of them wouldn't understand what he had really meant by it, and he was okay with that. As long as one person GOT it, it would have served its purpose.

He hadn't been nervous when they were trying to cast the part. He knew exactly who he wanted. He wouldn't let Adam talk him into getting anyone else. It had to be him.

But when Sacha walked in, nailed the formal audition, and officially got the part, Will started to get nervous.

Now, there were three things that Will thought the world should know about Sacha Baron Cohen.

The first, and most obvious, was the fact that he was British. Thus he was mild mannered, polite, and had that quiet way about him that was just so attractive. And yes, he had the accent that made girls swoon.

The second was that he was very quietly hilarious. He possessed a very different type of humor than most of the other actors in the movie. Oftentimes when the cast members would go out to dinner, Will, Adam, and John dominated the jokes. However, every now and again, amidst the raucous laughter, Sacha would pipe up with something terribly and yet appropriately clever.

The third and most important thing was that he was a master of his craft. He had based his entire career off of not knowing what other people's reactions would be. He had a reply, retort, witty comeback for everything anyone could throw at him. All this he did without breaking face; not so much as a glimmer of that handsome smile shown through.

THAT was what made Will nervous. Sometimes, when he knew they would botch a take, he would make it his deliberate purpose to get Sacha to laugh. He became addicted to the way Jean Girard's face slowly melted away to reveal Sacha's nearly embarrassed grin. His heart gave a little jump when a giggle pushed its way through. It was like a drug.

At first Will thought he was doing it because he felt threatened by Sacha's enormous comic presence (it may have even started out that way) and he felt terribly ashamed by that idea. But then he caught himself forgetting his other friends in social settings and focusing all talk, interaction, and thought on the Brit.

Not that Sacha himself minded. He simply worshiped Will since his Saturday Night Live days (he particularly enjoyed the James Lipton impressions) and had privately rejoiced for days when the call for the audition came. He took to Will instantly and the attention he was being paid by the star only fueled his liking for him. He was laughing and smiling easier and felt more comfortable around Will than anyone he had worked with prior.

The pair began spending a lot of time together. Sacha was thrilled because he was getting a chance to befriend one of his favorite comedians, and Will was extremely pleased due to his ever-growing attachment to Sacha's lips and teeth.

However, with that pleasure also came that gnawing nervousness that Will had begun to feel ever since Sacha signed on to the movie. Though, as the days dissolved into weeks and months, the two became close friends, but it was the thought of a certain day of shooting that made Will go a little bit crazy.

The Kiss. yes, the one thing he had been most proud of was now a source of nearly constant anxiety for the actor. He had, naturally, imagined himself kissing Sacha -- as Jean Girard, of course (Will coughed nervously to himself) -- and the display of affection still seemed appropriate for what Will was trying to portray in the film. Indeed he wasn't even daunted at the idea of very passionately kissing another man. No, what made his heart jump was the fact that the other man was SACHA. And he didn't know why.

Presently, there was a knock at Will's hotel room door that shattered his train of thought and caused his heart rate to inexplicably quicken. He knew exactly who had come calling.

For the two of them had taken to meeting in the other's hotel room alternately to talk over and rehearse upcoming scenes they had together. Unfortunately for Will, there was only one left.

Sacha looked magnificent, as usual. Will really did not understand why the man insisted on hiding behind... well, ugly characters. He could be the new teen heartthrob if he only played on his stunning good looks a bit.

"Hallo Ricky Bibby," Sacha-slash-Jean-Girard greeted. He kissed Will on each cheek very effeminately before bounding in the room.

Will took a few moments to marvel at the Brit. Of course he spared a nano-second to appreciate how well Sacha stayed in character always, but most of the star's thought went to how damn good the other man looked.

Sacha, trying to shy away from the Borat look for fear he would be recognized, was sporting worn and loose (but not too loose) blue jeans and a casual t-shirt that clung tantalizingly to his well built chest and arms. He, naturally, caught his friend staring at him and, as Will's luck would have it, he was bending over at the time.

"Checking me out, Ricky Bibby?" Sacha-slash-Jean asked, wiggling his butt playfully.

Will snapped out of his reverie and swallowed thickly, almost forgetting to put on his Southern accent for the reply. "I'm just trying to figure out what is the best angle to kick your ass from, Girard."

Sacha straightened from tying his shoe, and still remarkably in character said, "Don't be such a sour puss, Monsieur Bibby." He dropped the act after that, a frown cutting through his normally pleasant features, for Will had become lost in thought again. "Seriously, Will, are you alright?"

It was the accent that brought Will back this time and not without a little flutter of the heart. "Yeah, I'm fine..." He trailed off for a moment, trying to remember exactly what had been on his mind. "Just thinking about tomorrow."

The other man seemed to understand at once and forced a weak smile that really looked more remorseful than happy. "Ahh, yeah. Last day of shooting together, huh? No more of these fun little team huddles."

Will smiled in spite of himself. "We might as well enjoy it, yeah?"

And so they launched into their normal routine: dissecting actions and dialogue that were not expected to be improvised too badly, going over what Will expected out of the scene as the co-writer, producer, and close friend of the director, and eventually doing a rough rehearsal.

So, the night wound down with no mention of The Kiss, much to Will's relief. The scene would be tragically underdeveloped in comparison to the rest of the film, but he was actually willing to pay that price if it meant delaying the inevitable act of claiming Sacha's perfect lips with his own less than stellar ones.

However, Will's hopes of ending the evening scot free were dashed as Sacha smiled up at him from where he was sitting on the floor and said casually, "So we're pretty much finished except for one last thing." He grinned sheepishly. "The big snog on the lips."

Will could feel the color draining from his face. He quickly tried to get out of it, ("I'm too tired." or "It doesn't need rehearsing.") but Sacha insisted ("Come on, its one of the most important scenes in the whole movie!"). Throw in one of the Brit's smiles that made the other man go weak in the knees and it was a done deal.

They first discussed the set up to The Kiss, which you better believe Will dragged out as much as possible. They rehearsed the two lines of dialogue, actions, and reactions directly before The Kiss until it was better than perfect. Once they could practice it no more, Sacha said the one thing that made something inside Will explode.

"So, how do you want to kiss me?"

All the color Will had lost at the first mention of The Kiss came back so forcefully that he was sure that if he looked in a mirror he would be purple. In reply to the earth shattering question, however, he only spluttered something that barely sounded like English, much less a cohesive sentence.

Sacha frowned. "Those weren't even words, mate," he said, a trace of a laugh behind his obvious confusion. "Why don't you just show me?"

Will felt lightheaded now. He could feel himself swaying slightly on the spot in a daze. After a moment Sacha was much closer to him than before, though Will was quite sure he hadn't moved himself.

The actor shook himself mentally, attempting to get into character. In his mind's eye he envisioned exactly what he wanted to scene to be. For a moment he felt bold enough to do it. He grabbed Sacha's arms, pulled him close, went in for the kill, and... shoved himself away from the Brit, visibly trembling. "I... I can't do it," he whispered heavily.

Sacha sighed, looking a little... disappointed? Then, without a word, he shoved Will onto the bed hard and began undressing himself.

"Wha - What are you doing?" Will asked nervously, propping himself up on his elbows.

"I don't know how it got into you head, but it seems like you don't think you have it in you to kiss me. So, I'm just going to relieve some tension." Now totally nude, Sacha discarded his clothes unceremoniously and then went to work on Will's pesky garments.

To cut a long story cruelly short, the sex was mindblowingly amazing. No matter what weird emotional attachment Will had to the other man, he knew that not a single sexual encounter he had thereafter could ever DREAM of measuring up to Sacha's prowess in the sack.

However, as they lay back to enjoy the post-coitus, Sacha leaned over to steal a kiss, but was unpleasantly surprised when Will jerked his head away. The look on his face was melted from one of satisfaction to one of sheer disbelief. "Will," he said softly. "What is it? we just fucked and you can't kiss me on the lips? You know, generally people do it the other way around." He kept trying to catch Will's eye, but the other man was clearly avoiding his gaze. "What? What is so wrong with my face that you can't bear getting that close to it?"

Will whipped his head around to face Sacha at once. "No! Its not like that!" He paused, trying to hastily collect his thoughts. "Its just that there's something about your lips --" He stopped at the expression of genuine hurt that had surfaced on his friend's face. "No, Sacha, its not like that!"

But it was too late. Sacha had rolled out of bed and was putting on his clothes. In what seemed like ten seconds, he had gotten dressed, collected his things, and left without a word, all the while showing no sign that he heard Will's feeble protests.

As the door slammed shut, Will slumped back against the pillows, mentally chastising himself for everything wrong he had done that night. It felt like he lay there for hours without sleeping, without blinking, just remembering.

He remembered Sacha's face the most. But what was odd about it was that he wasn't even thinking of that smile that made him crazy, like he normally did. No, instead his mind kept flashing back to the few, but piercing expressions that his one-night lover had worn throughout the night.

Will threw an arm across his eyes, as though trying - and failing - to block out Sacha's regretful, then despondent, then honest-to-God hurt face. The three, all caused by something he had said, ran over in his head like a painfully short slide show. He felt like he was missing something important. Some vital hint that he couldn't quite grasp.

He didn't have a very restful night, as one could imagine. Which might have been the cause of his poor performance the next morning. He couldn't keep his mind on his character at all and he didn't even argue back when Adam was yelling at him for what must have been the fiftieth time that day.

Sacha hadn't spoken an out-of-character word to him since the night before, though a couple of times Will found that the Brit had been looking at him, which would prompt a quick turn of the head in the opposite direction from the other man.

Will was so wrapped up in what it all meant that he didn't even feel a hint of nervousness (okay, maybe a hint) when Adam announced they would be doing the Kissing scene next.

So there Will stood, still swimming in confusion, when Sacha approached him silently, seemly resigned and somewhat sad, ready to do the scene. Then their gazes connected and there must have been something behind the poor actor's eyes, but suddenly it dawned on Will: Did Sacha want to be kissed... by him?

He didn't even heard the word "action." All he knew was that he was reciting lines automatically, though his stomach was doing somersaults. He couldn't do it. He said the last line. He couldn't do it. He was reaching for Sacha. He couldn't do it. Pulling him close. He wants you to do it.

And then it was as if all the wasted time caught up with him and he was kissing Sacha so forcefully that he stumbled backwards. It took a moment but finally Will could feel the other man's arms around him and they were holding him tight.

He never wanted it to end. He dipped Sacha a little, still clinging firmly to him, not daring to let their lips part. Pure, unadulterated heaven.

For the second time that day, Will couldn't hear the director's instructions. By the time the two actors were pried apart Adam had shouted "CUT!" no less than twenty seven times.

As the crew prepared to do the shot again from a different angle, Sacha shot Will a quizzical look, still slightly winded from the kiss. "What happened?" He whispered. "What about my messed up lips?"

Will shook his head, grinning.

"Take your positions, guys!"

They were in each other's arms again. "What I meant to say was that your lips --"

"And!"

"-- are perfect."

"ACTION!"

And then he took Sacha again. And again. And again.

Slut. 


End file.
